Like Lust
by FairyTale87
Summary: Arthur was king and married to Gwen. Morgana was a sorceress and exiled. But that didn't stop their secret meetings. One night, Morgana decided she was tired of these midnight rendezvous, and challenged Arthur to make a decision once and for all. Damn the consequences.
1. Chapter 1

_Like Lust_

 _One_

' _Our Gentle Sin'_

"Morgana," he said. His voice echoed, bouncing off the stone walls of the throne room. There was something so taunting, something so familiar about the sound. Despite how many cold memories lingered in the nooks and crannies of this room, his voice sounded sweet. It wasn't the type of sweet that putting honey in tea gives. It was the type of sweet that came to you slowly, and perhaps was only imagined. Perhaps it was the type of sweet that you only tricked yourself into thinking was there, because its absence would make the whole thing too bitter. Whatever the reason, she smiled at the voice, and how it sounded—so rich and regal, yet entirely belonging to her

"Arthur," she returned, with a bit of a sultry taunt to her voice. It had been two weeks since she had last traveled to the castle. She missed seeing it during daylight, missed how the sun would illuminate the otherwise unforgiving room, through the stained glass windows. The colors would dance, and so would she. But she was shrouded in darkness now, and had been for some time. The only golden shine she saw was his hair, or a quick flash of the candle's fire reflecting off his crown. He had become her sun, and he didn't even know the first thing about loneliness.

"What are you doing here," he said, a bit more of a tightness in his voice now. "Morgana, you know it's still too soon." Arthur began to close the distance between them, making his regal walk from the doorway to her place by the throne. He watched as she traced the design on the top of it. Her delicate fingers moved with the shape of the curves and in the moment he could have sworn she was nothing but air.

"Coward," she said sharply, but in passing. Her green eyes shot over to his approaching form. She would have tried to connect with his eyes, but it was still too dark to fully make them out. The only way she knew the sharp lines of his jaw existed was by touch. The last time she had seen him clearly, and not in the shadows, had been hours before Uther had banished her from the castle, all those years ago. She clutched tightly to the memory of his illuminated features.

He walked up the steps leading to the throne, and instinctively came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her stomach, pressing her into the wooden frame of the throne. "You know I want you," he whispered against her hair, and the heat of his breath made her eyes flutter shut with such pleasure and weakness.

"Then prove it," Morgana said, trying to hide the begging in her voice.

Pulling on her side lazily but firmly, he turned her to face him. Without giving her another second to continue her thought, he laced his fingers in her curls, and put his lips to hers. At first she was cold; stony, and unwilling. But after a quick nip on her bottom lip, she pressed her body against his, and opened her mouth to his. It was a feverish kiss, full of unsaid words, and desire that couldn't be quelled with lips. She took the crown from his head, and dropped it thoughtlessly onto the throne. They heard the gold clank against the back of the chair until it settled on the cushioned seat. Neither could care less. Monarchy be damned, when they were together, they were not a king and a sorceress. They were Arthur and Morgana, and they both compensated for what that meant by falling deeper into the heated moment.

Morgana found her feet sooner than Arthur did, and she led him clumsily to the nearest wall. On impact, Arthur's back tugged on the banner bearing the Pendragon crest. He found the small of her neck, and placed his hand there tightly, guiding her chest to his. He ran his tongue along her lip, and she quickly granted him access. Before she fully knew what she was doing, she was untying the strings of his shirt. His exposed chest was warm and taut, and the muscles in his neck trembled at her touch. Tugging on the now flopping collar, she deepened the kiss, and began to start lifting up the shirt.

Arthur tensed at this. If he was a good man, he would stop. For Gwen, for loyalty, for sworn promises. But the way Morgana's hands felt on his body were enough to make him forget all of that. They were each other's drug of choice since the tender age of sixteen, and time had only made them crave it more. Here in the dead of night, no one could touch them. They were a perfect sin, and in all honesty neither wanted it any other way.

"Do you want me?" Morgana slurred, running her teeth gently over his earlobe. She dropped his shirt, and it fluttered down his firm torso.

"More than anything," he said. His voice was distant, lost in a haze of ecstasy, and dreams of a different reality.

She responded by eagerly tugging the shirt off his body, and discarding it onto the floor next to them. The air was crisp and the throne room did not lend much warmth, but Arthur hardly noticed. Morgana was fire enough.

"Then make me your queen," she said heatedly, raking her fingers through his hair, pushing him deeper into the wall. She was gravitated to him in a way she couldn't even begin to understand.

He caught her hands as they made their way to his chest, and he held them away from his body. Morgana was more vulnerable than ever, her hands suspended in the now tense air between them.

"You know I can't do that, no matter how much I might want to. I made a vow to Gwen, and to my kingdom." The pain was evident in his blue eyes, but that didn't mean much to Morgana in this moment.

"Can't, or won't?" Morgana challenged, tugging her hands out of Arthur's grasp, and resting them on her hips. She had to regain the upper hand if she was hoping to make it out of this encounter with her dignity.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Being with you feels right, but being with Gwen is responsible."

"Well," she said with a flash of a smirk, "sometimes you've got to do what you think is right. Damn the consequences."

Her words from all those years ago hit him hard. He was stunned, and wistful.

"How about this," she reasoned. "Lift my exile, and I'll come back to live in the castle. Perhaps making your decision in the daylight will give you some clarity."

Her words were loaded, and she didn't give him a moment to let them sink in, before she started to turn and walk away. He quickly reacted and caught her hand.

"Yes," was all he said, before letting go, and leaning back heavily on the wall behind him.

Morgana nodded, and began her descent down the stairs. She couldn't help but smirk.

* * *

 _Hey all, I know it's been forever since I've written anything (and to be honest I probably shouldn't be starting a new story, haha). But, this idea came to me a while ago, and I finally decided to start writing it and figuring out the story (which I'm still working on. If you guys have any ideas, don't hesitate to let me know!). One quick note about this story: everything pretty much follows cannon, but in this story, Arthur and Morgana aren't related. Some timeline stuff may also be a little bit re-worked/different, but I'll explain that as the story goes on. Anyway, I hope you all liked this! Let me know in a review, if you have an extra moment._


	2. Knows Everybody's Disapproval

_Like Lust_

 _Two_

' _Knows Everybody's Disapproval'_

When she got to the castle it was daylight. Albeit gray and rainy, it was daylight nonetheless. Her black dress with the lace torn and tattered felt unfitting without the benefit of the darkness, and for the first time in a long time she felt like the hated outcast that she had been all those years ago. She had left Camelot in fine silk—a beautiful green that she swore she deserved. But the feeling of entitlement got torn away as the dress snagged on bushes and fallen branches, turning her into a child of the forest and no longer a lady at court. She had never worn green since that day. It only reminded her of being banished to the forest with nothing but her two feet and a small sack of food. The memory ravished the hope that had been growing inside her since Arthur agreed to lift her exile. She approached the grand doors of the castle, and scraped a long fingernail over the wooden and iron structure. Her eyes flickered to the guard who was standing watch to her right.

"Well, are you going to open the door, or does a lady have to do it herself?" Her tone was harsh, full of bristles and shadows and a deep indignation for the supposedly grand land of Camelot.

The guard's lacking stance quickly became straight and polished, and he nodded, feigning respect.

"Welcome," the guard said rather timidly as he opened the castle door for her. The sound of her shoes hitting the stone floor echoed in the hallway, and the train of her dress seemed to scorch the ground it touched. She saw the eyes on her, and felt their glares. Guards and servants alike knew the tale of Morgana Le Fay and her banishment from Camelot. A part of her wanted to show them exactly why they were right to fear her, but in this moment, while she felt so small compared to the towering walls, she knew it was judgement and not fear that they had for her. Her dress felt too tight and revealing, and her hair, she knew, was anything but graceful. She couldn't resist the urge to cross her arms for some sense of protection. The men she passed raised eyebrows at her and followed her passing form with tempted eyes. She wished that Arthur was here to greet her, and quickly dropped her arms to her side.

She made her way to her old quarters. The only place her distracted mind could think to take her.

* * *

"You lifted her exile?" Gwen's voice was tight and unforgiving as she approached her husband in the council room. Arthur dropped his feather pen on the large table, running a hand through his hair.

"I did," he replied. His eyes never left his paper. He heard Gwen's furious footsteps as she came closer. Arthur knew that inviting Morgana back would not be easy.

"Why, Arthur?" she stopped in front of his chair, looming over him. "After everything she put us through all those years ago, you bring her back to court? How did you know where she was?" Each question was another pin in the already tattered balloon of Arthur's integrity.

"Time changes people, and Morgana is not the same woman she was."

Gwen sat down next to Arthur, wrapping a hand around his wrist. "I know you two have a past, Arthur. I worked in the castle long enough to hear the rumors. But I would hope for the sake of the sanctity of our marriage," she paused. "And for me, that you would not resume any relations with her." Arthur knew what Gwen was prodding at, and if he were an honest man he would tell her the truth. But Morgana's touch came back to him and suddenly Gwen's hand on his body made him ill.

"Yes, Gwen, we are old friends. Which is why I asked one of my men to track her down and offer her residence once more in the castle. _I_ would hope that you would trust me. Not only as your husband, but as your king. It is in my best interest to settle old qualms. Fate doesn't bode well for kings who hold grudges."

Gwen sighed, nodding slightly. He could see her yes softening but the wariness remain. "I don't trust her, Arthur. She is a witch. A witch who tried to take your father's crown. We fought her together. I just don't understand how that can be forgiven."

"With much thought and reservation," Arthur concocted quickly. The truth of the matter was that even back then, even while Morgana's followers stormed the castle, she and Arthur were still lovers. Their love back then had been electric. But circumstance had not been kind to them.

"Please," Arthur continued, the lump of guilt in his stomach growing heavier, "trust me." He placed a hand softly on her cheek and smiled. Gwen kissed his hand in return.

"I do," she said. "Just be careful."

Arthur agreed with a nod. "I have to finish this letter," he said gesturing to the parchment in front of him. With one last pat on the hand, Gwen stood up and took her leave. Arthur watched her go and once the door was closed he let out a long breath he didn't even know he'd been holding.

The world around him didn't seem real. He didn't seem real. Growing up the last thing Arthur wanted to be was a liar and a cheater. He had had grand dreams of being a great and just king; a king whose followers respected him for the respect he showed them. But he was jeopardizing all of it for her. He put his head on the table, hoping that the darkness would calm his mind.

"Your Grace," a voice said from the servant's entrance. Arthur lifted his head heavily. "The Lady Morgana has requested your presence in her old chambers."

"Thank you," Arthur said, rising from his seat. His heart couldn't help but flutter.

He made his way eagerly up the stairs to her. He had never occupied her rooms once she left, and Arthur had convinced his father to leave her things intact, silently hoping that she would return one day.

He knocked on her door rather excitedly, and immediately it opened. He was about to throw himself on her, when a servant walked by. Immediately his posture became rigid and his face cold. "Lady Morgana," he said with a light bow, "I hope your arrangements here are suitable." Turning slightly, he watched the servant turn the corner.

"Very suitable," Morgana said, tugging on his robe and pulling him into the room. She wasted no time with pleasantries and slammed the door shut with Arthur's body, pressing him into the wood with a deep kiss.

"You know," she whispered into his ear softly, "this is the first time in some years we've access to a bed."


End file.
